Blood and Roses
by MojangKikkerland
Summary: Ocelot bleeds out in the hands of his two captors. Rape, gore, wound-fucking, pwp.


Ocelot shuddered into consciousness as if he were dropped into cold water. He couldn't think, couldn't see beyond the hazy outlines that flickered in his vision. Immediately he knew he was in danger, and was able to vaguely recall that he was in enemy territory. He was freezing cold, his hands and feet like ice. It was then that he felt the warmth seeping out of his stomach, dripping into a sticky puddle on the floor. He felt himself shaking. He tried to raise an arm. It wouldn't respond, and Ocelot moaned in horror.

"Oh, he's still alive."

"Really? Damn. Send him to hell then."

Ocelot heard the click of boots on stone. He inhaled sharply, catching the scent of dampness and blood. He squirmed on the floor until a white, searing pain soared through his system, wringing a tiny whimper from his throat. The hole in his abdomen felt like a ball of pain, torching his nerves and sapping every ounce of strength. The sound of walking stopped beside him. It was silent, and for a moment Ocelot could only hear his shallow, ragged breathing and the beat of his desperate heart. Then he felt a strong kick smash his injured side. Strong, gut-wrenching pain wracked his body, clutching him like a ragdoll. Ocelot let out a choked scream before he clenched his jaw shut, trembling.

A shadow fell over him and a hand clenched in his hair, dragging his head back so that his neck was exposed. "God, did you hear that?" a voice said from the darkness. Ocelot was roughly flipped over on his back. A boot nudged his wound, then came down on it sharply. Ocelot hissed, fighting back any sounds, but his assailant ruthlessly attacked until Ocelot moaned in pain.

The man at his side swore reverently. "Fuck, that's good," he murmured. Ocelot felt a rough hand on his face, grabbing his cheeks and turning his head to the side. Ocelot tried to snarl at it, but instead a bubble of blood welled up and burst inside his mouth. A finger swiped his lips, and Ocelot instinctually began to panic. He summoned up all his strength to try and move his limbs, but his muscles only twitched, unmoving.

The man holding on to him called out to someone else in the room. "Come here. Look at him." Ocelot heard another set of footsteps approaching, these much heavier. A shadow fell over his face, and he shuddered as he felt himself under scrutiny. "You're right," the new voice rumbled. "He's cute, isn't he?"

The first man prodded his lips, trying to push a finger inside his mouth. "Yeah. Really cute." Ocelot's eyes rolled up at the dark shape that was holding him, and Ocelot tried to sink his teeth into the hand on his face. His jaw found purchase, but the hand's owner threw a knee into his side, and Ocelot's grip weakened enough for the man to pull his hand out.

The second man chuckled deeply. "Guess a blowjob's out of the question then?"

Ocelot managed to growl weakly, eliciting laughter from both unknown men. "He's got some fire left in him," the first man marveled. "Pretty impressive considering half his blood's spilled out on the floor." Cold fear gripped Ocelot's brain. How much blood had he lost? His head was throbbing, and he was on the verge of hyperventilation. "How long does he have left?" the man continued.

Ocelot felt a hand on his midsection, teasing the wound. "Not long," the other man grated out. "We better get started."

Panic gave Ocelot new determination. Pain coursed through his body as he tensed his abdominals, and he pushed himself up with shaking arms. A wet clot of blood fell onto the floor, and Ocelot's stomach fluttered as he saw the pooling blood beneath him. One of the men easily yanked his arms out from underneath him, and he fell face down with a pained huff. One of the men pinned his arms behind his back, while the other knelt on his legs. "I've got an idea," Ocelot heard the second man say. "Give me your knife."

Ocelot struggled against his captors, trying to ignore the blood that gushed from the open wound in his side with every movement. He tried to turn his head, but he couldn't see what was happening behind him. His fear deepened as he felt himself spread eagled, still face down. His jacket and shirt were torn off. Then, he felt the smooth tip of a knife on the inside of his upper arm. The knife pierced his skin, slicing through muscle and tendon, and once again dipped into his flesh like a needle threading through cloth. With a casual efficiency, his other arm was mutilated in the same way, then his legs. Ocelot was left paralyzed, unable to do anything but shiver.

He felt himself beginning to go under. His eyes glazed over, his breathing went ragged, and he felt a sickly weakness take complete control of his body. He barely felt their hands as the two men flipped him onto his back, only feeling the liquid pulse of pain through his system, emanating from his stomach like a living being. His pants and underwear were removed slowly, teasingly, and Ocelot lifted his head from the floor to see his assailants. The larger man positioned himself between his legs, smoothing his rough hands over Ocelot's thighs and ass. The man stuck his fingers in Ocelot's blood and used it to slick himself up. A hand shoved Ocelot's head down to the ground. Unable to see, Ocelot had no warning for the sudden intrusion of the large man's cock. It took all his self control not to hiss in pain. Ocelot heard a grunt of pleasure, and the painful sensation intensified as the man began to thrust into him.

While one man was fucking him, the other man had his hands in Ocelot's hair, and stroked his face. "C'mon," he crooned in his ear, "Moan for me." The hands left his head and Ocelot felt the man move lower down his body. The telltale sound of a belt being unbuckled reached his ears, and the man straddled his midsection. Before he could grasp the situation, three fingers were crammed into his mouth, and the man positioned his erect cock over his wound. The man gave a contented sigh as he sank into the soft, bloody flesh. Ocelot howled in abandon, both pain and horror breaking the final barriers of his pride. The man between his legs thrust into him harder and faster, grasping his thighs, nails breaking the bloodless white flesh. His insides felt like they were being torn apart, the cock in his wound pulling out and slamming in, making sickly wet sounds as it pulverized the injured flesh. Any coherent thought in Ocelot's head was drowned out by the pain, and he lost himself to screams and moans.

Eventually, the larger man's pounding lost its tempo, and his thrusting became harsh and erratic. He spread Ocelot's legs as far apart as they would go, and came inside him with a low moan. The man above was panting, his hands and genitals covered in Ocelot's blood. He fucked him steadily, testing which angles would milk the most pain and sound out of his victim. By the time his rhythm became desperate, Ocelot didn't even have enough strength to scream. The smaller man shoved his bloody cock deep inside Ocelot and shuddered, bracing himself on Ocelot's shoulders as he came. He was grateful when both men finally pulled out of him, leaving him to bleed out on the ground. Head spinning, he labored for each breath until he felt himself pulled out of the world of sensation.

As Ocelot lost all vision to darkness, and all hearing to the ringing in his ears, even the pain began to ebb. Sinking like a leaf through water, Ocelot weaved in and out of lucidity. He must have been somewhere close to death when he dreamt about John holding him in his arms. He dreamt about John's hands touching his face, John's arms around his body, and John shouting at him with a hoarse, faraway voice. Ocelot smiled, because even though illusory, the press of John's body against his was warm.


End file.
